


A Journey of a Thousand Steps

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Artisent Chronicles
Genre: Affection, Character of Faith, Cookies, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, Flower Crowns, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Miscommunication, Pet Names, Plants, Prompt Fill, Sharing a Bed, Touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: There needs to be more to life than mere survival. Especially when mere survival takes almost everything you've got.A collection of ficlets about hard-won friendships and burgeoning affection.
Relationships: Dean/Nick, Jack/Maud
Comments: 40
Kudos: 5





	1. Taking a Break (Jack/Maud)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laridian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laridian/gifts), [porkwithbones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/porkwithbones/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Artisent Chronicles](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/558685) by laridian, porkwithbones. 



> So my friends have been writing this awesome sci-fi story, the Artisent Chronicles, for... like a decade? And they've been posting it on Pillowfort for about a year now, and I've been reading it, and then... in the past couple of weeks I've gotten really into it. Like, wrote almost 10k words of random little fic bits in the past week because I've become obsessed with it. 
> 
> I really think that some day this story is going to break out, so here I am, planting a flag on AO3 and saying "hey world, check this out." and then come back and read my sappy stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Artisents who most need a break are the two who have the least idea how to actually relax. An offhanded comment by Jack gives Maud a thought that she's pretty sure no one else on Paradise has come up with, and Jack's never been one to dismiss an interesting idea before entertaining it at least a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Directly inspired by the chapter [Hiding in Plain Sight](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1085414). This is what set off this whole writing binge. 
> 
> I fell in love with Maud right off the bat, and Jack grew on me very quickly, but omg, the relationship between them is _chef kiss_ just perfect. But, in true speccygeekgrrl fashion, when I see two characters I love getting close, I just... want to get them a little closer.

"I thought we agreed we'd be taking days off, same as everyone else," Maud said severely, annoyed to find Jack asleep sitting up with his tablet fallen face-down on his lap. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before aiming a half-hearted glare at her.  
  
"I _am_ taking a day off," he protested.   
  
One brow reaching for her hairline, she plucked the tablet off his lap and woke the screen to find a half-drafted email to the Conclave. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on."  
  
"That'd be something," he muttered, and took it back from her. "Come on, Maud, you know I haven't found anything else to do with my free time yet. I need to stay busy, or..."  
  
"...I know," she said, not about to make him finish that sentence. They were both afflicted with minds that needed to be kept occupied, but it was only two weeks into the new schedule of one day off per week for every Artisent, and so far they'd both been failing at actually relaxing on their days of rest.  
  
Jack sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. "I remember when it wouldn't affect me to fall asleep in a chair like that," he said ruefully.  
  
"Back in the days of energy drinks and personal masseuses," Maud said dryly, "but we've only got so much to work with on Paradise." She studied him for a second with her lips pressed into a thin line, and then moved behind him, gently nudging his hand away and replacing it with her own. She was hardly any kind of masseuse, but one didn't need to be skilled to feel the knots of tension along his spine, and it wasn't a hardship to offer him what help she could give.  
  
He let his head fall forward with a half-voiced groan. "You don't have to do that," he said, in a voice that clearly meant please continue.  
  
"Don't worry about it," she said, and dug her thumbs into a particularly tense spot with only a small bit of enjoyment at the way it made him yelp. "Someone's got to look after you," she added, a barely veiled laugh in her voice at the knowledge that no one else was going to do it, and he was the only one who'd return the favor for her.  
  
"...I appreciate it."  
  
"We've really got to find ourselves hobbies," she said. "We can't keep putting it off."  
  
"Speak for yourself, I can easily put it off indefinitely." Without thinking, she swatted him lightly on the side of the head. He made an offended sound and tipped his head back to glare at her, but found that laugh in her eyes this time. "If you have any suggestions on hobbies that are intense enough to occupy the amount of runtime my brain's got to fill to keep me from going bonkers, I'm open to ideas," he said.  
  
"Haven't thought of one yet," she said. "I'll let you know as soon as I do. Put your head back down."  
  
"You don't have to say it in such a bossy tone."  
  
"Please, I'm the only person on the planet who gets to talk to you in a bossy tone, you're crazy if you think I'm not going to take advantage of that fact." He snorted a laugh and did as he was told, and she ran her fingers through his hair on the way back to his neck to finish the job she'd begun.

—

"Jack?"  
  
"Mmhm?" Jack didn't look up from his tablet until Maud covered the screen with her hand, and then only to aim an irritated look at her. " _Yes_ , Maud?"  
  
"How much of your attention is occupied by physical sensations?" There was a weird tone in her voice that he couldn't make sense of, but the look in her eyes was familiar in a professional capacity and beginning to become familiar in a personal one now that they were sharing a home: _if I say this, I think something interesting will come of it._  
  
"Depends on the sensations," Jack said, trying to give her an honest answer. "Pain can be very preoccupying."  
  
"I wasn't necessarily referring to pain," Maud said, and put her hand on the back of his neck the way she'd done a few nights before, a warm and gentle clasp. "I was thinking more along the lines of the relief of pain."  
  
Jack's skin went to goosebumps under her touch, and he fought to control how much of his confusion made it to his face. "I'm... not currently in pain," he said.  
  
"No? Then why do you keep rubbing your neck like you are?" Her fingers stroked down his spine, most of the tension she'd rubbed away before back in place and not difficult to feel.  
  
"I'm not currently in an abnormal amount of pain," he amended his statement.  
  
"The normal amount of pain is none," she said, but instead of kneading into his tense muscles like he half expected her to, she just traced her fingertips along his hairline. "You wanted me to tell you as soon as I had an idea for an... intense hobby, didn't you? Maybe something neither of us has experience with will be sufficiently preoccupying if it's pleasant enough."  
  
"I had something a bit more... intellectual, maybe, in mind? More productive?" What she was implying was almost shocking, but once the idea had been broached, he couldn't help but entertain it for at least a moment. When was the last time he'd been touched, before the last time she touched him? He couldn't remember. Jack hadn't been created to be given affection; he was the Legacy of a man who'd never made time for it, and he'd never inspired much fondness in those around him on his own merits.  
  
There was fondness in Maud's eyes as she looked down at him, though. "We're productive enough," she said, and he could hardly argue the point when she leaned down and kissed him, a gentle and awkward brush of lips that still somehow stole his breath away.  
  
_She's a saboteur_ , Jack reminded himself as he lifted his head to kiss her back, as much in self-defense as anything, _she specializes in destruction_. He doubted that she would destroy _him_ , but his _concentration_ was thoroughly demolished, every prior thought gone straight out of his head as he assessed these new feelings.  
  
It _was_ pleasant, though. The sensation of her fingers running through his hair was pleasant; the hint of honey on her lips from the cup of tea she'd abandoned half-drunk was pleasant; the quiet, unintentional hum that escaped her when he pressed back into the kiss was pleasant. Blindly, he set his tablet aside on the table so he could rise to his feet and hesitantly settle his hands on her shoulders, at a loss for what to do with them but wanting to touch her back somehow.  
  
"That was interesting," Maud said as she pulled back to look at him. She licked her lips, brows drawn together slightly. "What do you think... is 'physical affection' sufficiently intense to occupy your mental runtime?"  
  
"It might be worth pursuing," Jack said, and cursed how breathless he sounded even if it did make her smile at him. "We should approach this logically," he added, looking down at Maud's fingertips as she took his hand and followed the lines of the veins in his wrist as they lead to his elbow and back down to his hand.

"Discovery is better undertaken with a reckless spirit," she said, and laughed when he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Inspiration is chaos. You know that."

"Just because _your_ work thrived on chaos..." 

"Well, if you want to do this logically, we should be collecting data. Hm..." Maud laced her fingers through his and squeezed. "On a scale of one to ten, how nice was that?"

"I don't believe that scale has been accurately calibrated yet," he said dryly.

"We're working on it. Did you like it, at least?"

"I did," Jack admitted, and squeezed her fingers back before letting go. "Your turn." When she extended her arm to him, his eyes caught on the still pink scar from her most recent run-in with the bugs of Paradise, and he gently brushed his thumb over it. "You've got a lot more scars than I do," he observed.

"We've lived very different lives." Jack touched her carefully, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and it almost made Maud want to laugh again; not scornfully, as if to mock the idea that his creator's fingers could be used to cause harm the way hers had, but in delight, to be treated with such gentleness by a man who was so very brusque.


	2. Honey (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cute moment for the prompt "accidental flirting".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really love Dean and Nick and how _tender_ their friendship is despite their differences.

The first time Dean called Nick honey, it was a joke. Nick had said he liked honey in his tea, and Arno was proud to distribute the labors of his very productive bees. It came in a small clay jar, upon which Dean wrote "HUNNY" in pencil. He presented it to Nick with a bright smile and a chirpy, "Honey for my honey." 

Nick blinked, blinked again, and said "Thank you," in a flat tone, looking down at the gift as he accepted it from Dean's hands. He didn't comment on the pet name, not that Dean expected him to, and he didn't say much for the rest of the night. He did, however, offer Dean a cup of barley tea with honey before he went to bed.

"Thanks, honey," Dean said completely absently, taking the cup without looking up from the staffing list he was editing on his tablet. 

It didn't sound like a joke that time. It sounded like a genuine endearment. Nick had no idea how to take it, and he cast around in his mind, at a loss for words that indicated fondness in the degree he felt it towards Dean.

"Good night... dear." That sounded close enough. 

Dean almost dropped the cup of tea into his lap, blinking up at Nick, who was doing a credible impression of someone who was much less prudent about sun safety measures with the color flooding into his cheeks. "What did you say?"

"I said, good night, Dean," Nick said, and left the room hastily.

"Good night," Dean called after him. He looked down into the mug, took a sip, and thoughtfully sucked the slight sweetness off his bottom lip. That had _not_ been what Nick said, he was positive, and what Dean had heard was far more warming than the tea.


	3. Shiver (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "huddling for warmth".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as the story has been posted yet, Nick and Dean have held hands. But Dean is touch-starved, and poor Nick needs a hug, dammit.

Paradise didn't really get cold, even in the winter. Almost all of the Artisents had spent almost all of their lives in space, and even the chilliest Paradise night was pleasant in comparison. 

Nick, however, had spent the majority of his life in the Middle East. He tolerated the heat of summer better than most denizens of Paradise, but the cooler nights left him shivering, and his predawn work shifts meant he was outside at the time the temperature was lowest. He would never speak a word of complaint, of course— he never did— but it was possible to clock his discomfort for anyone paying attention. 

Of course, the only person who paid that much attention to Nick was Dean. Any other Artisent might have offered a blanket or an extra shirt. Dean, though, whenever he'd shivered, had been offered a hug by his family, and that was his first instinct on seeing his friend in discomfort. 

"May I touch you?" Dean never made physical contact without Nick giving him the okay. At first, Nick had said no nine times out of ten. As they'd become better friends, he'd agreed more often... although he still said no more often than he said yes. 

"How?" Nick's voice was a rasp, but the fact that he didn't outright say no filled Dean with hope. 

"I'd like to hug you... to put my arms around you," Dean clarified after a moment of Nick not looking like he got it. 

" _Why_?" 

"Because you look cold, and I've got warmth to spare."

"...don't put your hands on my back," Nick said after thinking it over for a moment. 

"Can I put my front to your back?" 

"Yes."

"Thank you," Dean said, and stepped around Nick to take him in his arms, resting his chin on Nick's shoulder as he hugged Nick as carefully and as gently as he could, hands rubbing up and down Nick's arms to transfer heat into his goosebumped flesh. 

Nick made a choked sound and very slightly leaned back into Dean's embrace, spine stiff but the shoulder under Dean's head relaxed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He shivered again, but not in a way that had anything to do with cold. 

Dean could have quite gladly held Nick close for an indefinite amount of time, but there was only so much affection Nick could tolerate to be shown, and this was a particularly acute way to be shown it. "That's enough," Nick breathed, and Dean released him immediately. 

"Do you feel any better?" Dean asked. 

"Yes," Nick said, and met Dean's gaze without the guarded look his blue eyes usually held. "I do."


	4. A Place to Thrive (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "hunger".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is the only Artisent who had a loving family and a positive time on Earth.

Dean missed cookies. He missed the variety of them. He missed the smell of them baking in the kitchen of his family's house, the simple bliss of a cookie still warm from the oven with a glass of cold milk. 

The fact that he would never again eat a chocolate chip cookie pained him, but oatmeal raisin had been his second favorite, and that, perhaps, was a thing he could have on Paradise, once they started with grapes, which weren't even on the agenda yet... and if Nick could get the vanilla orchids to thrive. Dean had every faith in his ability to do so. He just had to find the right place for them. 

Finding the right place to thrive in Paradise had been a matter of trial and error for both of them. Dean hoped the flowers would have an easier time of it than they had.


	5. Building a Tolerance (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "belladonna".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is something of an acquired taste, and no other Artisent could acquire him. Nick... is a whole other thing entirely.

"This is a pretty one," Dean said, admiring the dark flowers of the potted plant that had just begun to bloom on the windowsill in their common room.

"Don't touch it," Nick said, in the same tone of voice he'd once said _don't touch me_. "It's belladonna. Poison."

"Poison? Or medicine?" Dean asked, one brow arching as he clasped his hands together.

"There's no difference between the two except in dosage," Nick said.

"Some things are only good in small amounts," Dean said thoughtfully. "Especially if your tolerance is low." 

"Some things you should never grow to tolerate," Nick said, knowing they were talking at cross-purposes but not entirely sure what Dean was trying to say or whether he wanted to hear it. 

Dean just gave him a small smile and turned away from their windowsill garden. "Well, even intolerable things can be beautiful sometimes, in some ways," he said as he went into the kitchen.


	6. The Prayer (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "forget".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Nick had polar opposite experiences while on Earth. While Dean was sent to people who loved him and instilled their faith in him as an expression of that love, Nick was sent to people who used their religion as an excuse to abuse him in the most cruel fashions.

Dean clung to his memories of Earth tightly, passing them through his mind like rosary beads through his fingers, familiar and comforting and totally, utterly his own, a litany that brought him as much comfort as his faith did.

Nick would have given anything to erase his memories of Earth from his mind completely. While Dean's were a rosary, Nick's were a noose, always around his neck, tightening whenever he closed his eyes and slipped into dreams that were only ever nightmares.

Dean knew that his experiences set him apart. He knew that, to most other Artisents, forgetting would be a blessing, and to Nick especially, it would be freedom. There was nothing he could do to lift those burdens from any of his friends, but when he woke in the middle of the night to the sounds of Nick's terror filtering through the walls of their home, he did the one thing he could: he prayed, as devoutly as he could, for Nick to realize that he was safe when he opened his eyes into the true dark of a Paradise night.


	7. Dinner for Two (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "smorgasbord".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paradise has a few lumpy moons that are usually compared to potatoes or dumplings.

"What are _these_?" Maud asked when Jack set a plate down in front of her.

"Mini moons," Jack said. She arched a brow, and he added, "Potato dumplings."

"A true Paradise delicacy," she said dryly, and speared one on her fork. 


	8. Sideways Procrastination (Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "procrastinate".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maud, having a design purpose which included an unusually strong sense of initiative for an Artisent, is the Big Cheese on Paradise (as Dean might phrase it). She's never not busy.

It wasn't in the nature of an Artisent to procrastinate. They were designed to take satisfaction in their work.

Maud had enough work to do that she could approach procrastination in a sideways fashion, though. She could, if she wanted, put down an unpleasant task for a while to prioritize something more to her tastes. Of course, whatever needed to be done would be done eventually, but at least she had the option to distract herself from work... with more work.

She _really_ needed to figure out a hobby.


	9. A Song in His Heart (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "performance".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to get _some_ kind of use out of the years I spent religious, dang it!

Dean knew a lot of songs from the years his family had brought him to church. Most of them, he hesitated to sing in front of other Artisents. There wasn't a good way to explain praise and worship songs outside of a religious context; everyone thought he was weird enough without knowing about his beliefs. 

He liked to sing, though, and he would do it if he thought he was alone. He sang to the animals, sometimes, and they seemed to appreciate it. 

After Nick told Dean that he didn't mind Dean expressing his faith, Dean was less guarded about it. There was one song in particular that kept rising to the forefront of Dean's mind after they became friends, and it wasn't long before Nick overheard him singing it:

"I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart..."


	10. Blue Screen of Death (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "work".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost everyone has had a conversation like this at least once...

"This isn't working," Maud said abruptly. 

Jack froze, mentally reviewing the last few minutes of their conversation to figure out what he'd said wrong. Nothing stood out. "What's wrong?" At least he kept his voice even. 

"My tablet isn't charging," she said, and when he turned around he found her fiddling with the power cord. 

"Oh," he said, and hoped that she would never realize how nervous he'd just been at the thought that she'd had enough of him. 


	11. A Happy Home (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of multiple pieces inspired by the chapter [Little Sprouts](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1097595). Written for the tarot card prompt "Knight of Wands".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm just really really into these gentle boys thriving together.

At first, the trays lining nearly every flat surface of their house had looked like nothing but dirt, but it was only a few days before the first sprouts started to push through the soil, and soon there were delicate little baby plants everywhere Dean looked. He hadn't expected how _alive_ Nick would look when he was surrounded by plants to lovingly tend, or how much more willing Nick was to talk when he was talking about what he was growing. 

They'd worked together to decide what would be grown, of course— Dean had assigned Nick to the project, but they'd put their heads together about it, he hadn't just handed it off— but Dean couldn't tell coriander from cardamom or parsley from pepper when they were just sprouts. As the plants flourished, their home-turned-nursery began to smell amazing, until it reached the point where Dean would walk through the door after a hard day's work, breathe in deeply, and sigh out all of his tension in the peaceful atmosphere that they'd so carefully constructed.

"Welcome home," Nick said, with a small smile that Dean returned beamingly.


	12. A Touch of Beauty (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More about Nick and his plants making Dean's heart happy. Written for the tarot card prompt "Six of Cups".

The problem with focusing on survival was that people had a tendency to forget that beauty was also necessary for survival. It wasn't frivolous for Dean to miss flowers, but he also didn't feel like he could ask for something grown only for looks and not for practicality, so when he broached the idea of flowers with the Conclave, he had a specific list of useful ones: chamomile, lavender, and verbena to help with sleep for those who were restless despite their exhaustion at the end of the day; sunflowers for seeds and oil; nasturtium for flavor.

It was another project for Nick, but once the herbs had been established, he was looking for something else to do anyways. Their house became a nursery again, not for very long, but when the plants were old enough to move outside, Nick made sure to put sunflowers near the window of Dean's bedroom.

One flower that Nick had suggested was the wild rose, specifically for its excellence at feeding honeybees. When it began to blossom, the first blooms didn't go to the bees, though: he brought home a bouquet for Dean, simply to see the surprise and joy on his face when he saw them and smelled them.

While Dean could have just put the bouquet in a cup, he couldn't resist doing something he'd been taught by his sister back on Earth that he thought he'd enjoy much more. Nick watched in bemusement as Dean braided the stems to create a flower crown, but when Dean reached up to place it on Nick's hair, Nick couldn't help the grin that dawned across his face.


	13. A Turning Point (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the tarot card prompt "The World". Involves kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References the posted story [For Appearances](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1041241/).

The first time Jack kissed Maud, she wondered if they'd been on the path to this moment the entire time they'd known each other, or if it had gone from a possibility to a certainty at some definite point afterwards. 

She could remember him at the beginning the way she remembered everything, with a clarity that she couldn't put into words: how angry he'd been all the time, simmering rage in his dark eyes, the jerky way he'd take his glasses off to clean them and put them back on his face like donning armor to give himself a moment to think before saying something cutting.

If there was a turning point, she thought, it had to have been the night he showed up at her door, soaked to the bone and with everything he possessed similarly waterlogged. He'd looked so tired when she let him in, and he'd said as much— _anger is tiring, Maud_ — and even though they'd disagreed so openly, so recently, the only thing she wanted to do at that moment was to take care of him.

They'd been taking care of each other for a while now, though. They'd been _good_ for each other, in ways that neither of them had anticipated when she'd suggested that he move in. And now, in this moment, with Jack's hands gentle on her face and his lips pressed to hers, Maud felt like something had clicked into place, like they'd suddenly come into alignment in a way that had nothing to do with the physical.

...the physical, though, was proving to be _quite_ nice.


	14. Constellation for Two (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "cuddle puddle". Not exactly a puddle, but a small cuddle.

It seemed like they were at an impasse: Dean needed much more physical touch to be really happy, but the kind of affection he craved was too intense for Nick to be comfortable giving him. Dean would have been delighted to be completely entwined in Nick's strong arms, but Nick wasn't even at ease with both of Dean's arms around him, let alone all wrapped up in each other like that.

"I had an idea," Dean said one summer night after the sun had set. "Will you come out and look at the stars with me?"

"Yes," Nick said, "of course." 

Now that the grass had taken over the landscape, it was a little more comfortable to spread a blanket on the ground to lie on. Dean propped himself on his elbows to observe the dumpling moons, while Nick lay back a bit stiffly, space between their bodies. "What do you think, do you want to design some constellations with me?" Dean asked, only half-joking.

"I could never make sense of the constellations on Earth," Nick admitted. "Individual stars, I could name, but the shapes of the constellations... never clicked in my head."

"They didn't make much sense anyways," Dean said. "Here, how about this one... see the leftmost moon?"

"Yes."

"How about that triangle of stars next to it? Wider at the top?"

"Mmhm."

"That could be a cow's face."

"That's a reach," Nick said.

"Then you try one," Dean laughed. 

Nick scanned the sky thoughtfully, then shook his head. "It just looks like random stars to me."

"I suppose Artisents will be free of the superstition of astrology," Dean said. "I never really felt like a Capricorn anyways."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Nick said.

"That's fair." Dean lay back and put his hands behind his head, then looked over at Nick, offering him a hopeful smile. “Would you be all right with getting a little closer to me?”

“A little,” Nick said, and shifted over, gingerly resting his head against Dean’s bent arm but keeping their bodies apart. Dean tilted his head to press his cheek to Nick’s hair and didn’t move otherwise, wishing for more contact but not about to push Nick past his comfort level. For a few minutes, they stayed still, looking up into the chaotic sprinkling of stars across the sky without making any sort of sense of them. “You’re breathing kind of fast,” Nick said after a while. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Dean said. “You should hear my heartbeat.” He didn’t realize he’d been making an invitation, but Nick shifted to rest his head on Dean’s chest, ear pressed above his heart.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Nick murmured.

“I’m just happy being close to you,” Dean said, and gingerly wrapped his arm around Nick’s shoulders, pleased when Nick sighed softly and stayed where he was, listening to the beat of Dean’s steadfast heart.


	15. The Sweetest Thing You've Got (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the tarot prompt "two of cups", takes place after [There's No Tradition Like A New Tradition](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1110171).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many times can I write Jack and Maud's first kiss?
> 
> WE'RE GONNA FIND OUT, AREN'T WE.

The gift exchange Dean had proposed was a rousing success by any measure, providing an interesting venue for displaying the varying hobbyist talents of the Artisents. Jack found himself in possession of a small bottle of Paradise's first alcoholic beverage, a beautifully golden mead. He hadn't been much of a drinker back on Earth, though he had plenty of reasons to try to drown his sorrows back then. Now, though, alcohol was something to use in pursuit of connection, not obliteration. 

The solstice celebration was a boisterous affair, and he was relieved to slip away from it and head back home early. By the time Maud realized he'd gone, the party was winding down, and she walked home wondering about the state of mind she'd find him in, if he was even still awake.

He  _ was _ still awake, sitting and knitting with his glasses slid halfway down his nose and his lip between his teeth as he went back and forth between the pattern on his tablet and the project that was slowly taking shape between his needles, but when he looked up to greet her that bitten lip became a smile. "Welcome home," he said.

"When did you leave the party?"

"A couple of hours ago. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a while," he said, and turned back to his knitting to make it to the end of the row before setting it down.

"That sounds ominous," Maud said, trying to make a joke of it. "Do you still want to be alone with them?"

"Now I want to be with you," Jack said, and there was something about his voice that made her brows knit thoughtfully. 

"Well, here I am," she said lightly. 

Jack studied her face for a moment before he stood and offered her another smile, a smaller, more tentative one. "Want to have a drink with me?"

"Did we get more of the mint, or are we still out of it?"

"I meant something stronger than tea," he said, and revealed the bottle of mead he’d stashed in the kitchen. 

"Oh! I haven't had an alcoholic drink in..." she trailed off, shaking her head as she took the bottle from him. "A very long time."

"Have you ever been drunk?" 

"No, I've never had more than one drink in a sitting." She looked up from her perusal of the handwritten label with the hint of a smile on her lips. "Why, are you planning on getting me drunk?" 

"Seems like a waste to drain the bottle the night we crack it open, doesn't it? No, I just wanted to share one drink with you tonight. We should save the rest for a special occasion."

In lieu of a response, Maud handed him back the bottle and brought out a pair of slightly imperfect wooden cups she’d carved, setting them on the counter with a little wave. “Bartender, I’ll have one of the sweetest thing you’ve got,” she said playfully.

Jack hesitated just a second before putting the bottle down and reaching for Maud instead, settling his hands on her waist to pull her gently in and give her what was quite clearly the first kiss of his life, clumsy and eager and so, so sweet. 

If she’d been the type of person to freeze when startled, Maud would have been struck still by the unexpected display of affection. That wasn’t the type of person she was, though, so she buried her hands in his hair and kissed him back. They didn’t pull apart when the kiss ended, foreheads pressed together and breath hot against each other’s cheeks.

“Maud… when I said that now I want to be with you… I didn’t mean now, tonight. I meant now, from now on, for… as long as we’ve got. However long that might be.” His confession was little more than a whisper against her cheek. Maud knew that she would replay it in her mind with perfect clarity for the rest of her life. “Not as your roommate, or your co-conspirator, or... whatever people think we are to each other. Just as… yours. I love you.”

“Jack…” At a loss for words, Maud kissed him back partly because she wanted to and partly to give herself a second to figure out how to respond to his declaration. By the time she pulled back, she thought she knew what to say, and she waited for him to open his eyes before she said it, simple and honest and with a crack in her voice. “I love you too.” The smile on his face could have lit their entire home; it certainly lit up every corner of her heart to see such happiness and know that she was the cause of it.


	16. Transformed (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the tarot prompt "Death"

"I hope we'll have enough butterflies for all the flowers," Dean said, studying the chrysalis in a jar on their kitchen table. Nick had wanted to keep one easily visible so he'd know when the butterflies began to emerge, and Dean had been fascinated to observe the gradual darkening of the chrysalis. When he noticed the split in it, he'd woken Nick up to watch the first beautiful insect make its debut.

"They'll be busy," Nick said, head propped on one hand as he watched the split in the chrysalis grow as the butterfly struggled to shed it. "But so's every living thing on Paradise."

"Ain't that the truth," Dean said. "We're all being forced to evolve." Under the table, he tapped his toes against Nick's. "I wonder if the caterpillars who knew each other think their friends are more beautiful afterwards."

"I don't feel like we Artisents are getting more beautiful," Nick said.

"I suppose it's a matter of opinion," Dean said. "For what it's worth... I'm enjoying the increased frequency of your smiles." Startled, Nick looked up from the chrysalis to find a fond look in Dean's eyes.

"You're going to miss the butterfly if you're staring at me," Nick said, cheeks flushing as he dropped his gaze back to the cocoon, but that smile made its appearance, and Dean couldn't look away.


	17. The Unlikely Poet of Paradise (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "taking care of a loved one after illness or injury." Takes place after [The Doctor is Out of Energy](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1141791).

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Jack asked as he set the cup of water on Maud's bedside table. 

"Not really," Maud said, fretting with the edge of her blanket spread across her lap. "Not unless you've got a secret stash of reading material somewhere."

"You could read my poetry," he said, deadpan cracking at the incredulous look she aimed at him. "I'm joking. Can you imagine?" 

"I don't think I can," she admitted. "You're not the type for it."

"Oh, I don't know, I've got a few things to wax poetic about."

"Really?"

"Sure. The sting of repeated rejection, the balm of finally finding acceptance... The terrifying ordeal of being known, the joy of being liked despite all my flaws," Jack said, reaching for her hand. Maud's lips quirked up at one corner. "The recurring fear of losing the person who matters most," he added, fingertips brushing her medical alert bracelet. 

"I'd prefer to stop scaring you like that," she said dryly, and tugged his hand until he sat on the edge of her bed. 

"My heart can't take it," he said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd carry on," Maud said. "You'd have to."

"I don't know if I could," he said quietly. "I don't know how long I could, before I couldn't any more." He looked down at their clasped hands, avoiding her eyes. 

"Jack... If something happens to me, you can't give up," she said firmly. "Paradise can't afford to lose both of us."

"I'm sorry, Maud, but I can't make you any promises about what might happen after you're gone." He made a sound that might have been supposed to be a laugh. "I have a hard enough time coming home alone when you're in the hospital for a night. I couldn't bear to come home knowing you weren't ever going to be back. Maybe it's weak of me. But I never claimed to be strong."

"It's not weakness," Maud whispered. 

"I don't know what else to call it."

"Sure you do," she said. "If you're going to wax poetic, you have to know what inspired most of the poetry in human history." 

For a very long moment, he didn't move, and when he did, it was only to meet her gaze, his brown eyes gone wide. "I can't bear the thought of losing you. Of going on after losing you. I love you, Maud."

Her breath caught in her throat at his confession, even though she had prodded him into admitting it. Gently, she pulled his hand up to press her lips to the back of it. "I love you too much to be the end of you, Jack. Believe me, I'm not planning on leaving you without fighting to my last breath. The last thing I want is to lose my life to some stupid bug when I have so much to live for and so much relying on me." 

He turned his hand to brush her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her forehead very lightly. "I know you won't," he whispered. "I'm just afraid I won't have much fight left in me after that."

"Can you do me one favor?" Maud asked. 

"Anything," Jack said. 

"Can we stop talking about the ends of our lives and focus on the moment we're living now?" she asked, catching her hand in the front of his shirt to pull him down and kiss him properly. 


	18. A Helping Hand (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "backrubs/massage"

"I love making things, but it's murder on my arms," Maud sighed as she put away her lathe for the night. Jack looked up from where he'd been reading his tablet at the kitchen table and patted the other side of the table.

"Come here," he said, and held out both his hands when she sat across from him. "Give me whichever hand hurts more.” 

"It's less my hand and more my shoulder," she said, rolling her right shoulder and wincing. 

"Makes sense," Jack said, moving to stand behind her and run his fingers down the side of her neck and out to her shoulder. "Oh, yeah, I see. Let me know if this helps…" He tugged aside the neck of her shirt and carefully started rubbing his thumbs into the most tense part of her shoulder.

Maud made a quiet sound and tipped her head to the left as soon as the tension bled out enough for her to do it. “That’s good, yes.”

“Good.” Jack tried not to obsess over the line where her faded tan became unmarked olive skin, but he couldn’t stop brushing a finger over that barely perceptible demarcation as he worked the knot out of her shoulder. “I’ve really got to figure out how to convert that lathe for you,” he said, attempting to distract himself from the perturbing realization that he wanted to put his lips on that line.

“I’d appreciate that a lot,” she said, then gasped when the tightness in her muscle suddenly released. “Oh, yes. That’s _much_ better, thank you.” His hand stilled, but he didn’t remove it, and after a second she glanced up at him to find an almost puzzled expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said quickly, and tugged her shirt back into place before taking his seat across the table again. “I’m happy to help.” 

Maud arched a skeptical brow at him and offered her left hand across the table. “This hand does hurt a bit,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Jack said, and took her hand with both of his. “I learned a lot of good tips for relieving hand stress back when I was working at a computer all day every day. It’s important to take breaks and do stretches sometimes.” His gaze dropped to their hands as he rubbed a circle into the hollow of her palm.

“Is that how you get away with knitting for so long in a sitting?”

“Yeah. I take five minutes every hour to do these hand exercises. I can teach you how to do them.” Gently, he stretched her fingers backward one at a time, but before he could go on, she laced her fingers through his and caught his hand.

“Jack?”

“...yes?” He was still looking down at their hands. 

Deliberately, Maud dragged her thumb across his palm, and smiled when he shivered slightly. “I appreciate this,” she said. “That you want me to feel better.”

“I do want you to feel better… I’d like to make you feel good,” Jack admitted, and inhaled sharply when she pulled their hands up and kissed the back of his. He looked up to find her still smiling.

“You do. I feel good when I’m with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack: oh no I want to kiss her neck  
> Maud: oh no it looks like he wants to kiss me, better do it first!


	19. Uninvited but not Unwelcome (Jack/Maud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "oops, fell asleep in the wrong bed".

When Maud comes home, she finds Jack drooling into her pillow, and it bothers her deeply that her first reaction is _Aww_ and not _Eww_. It should feel invasive, to find her bed occupied, but she doesn't go into Jack's room, and she's never seen him asleep on a bed before, and there's something soft and open about his face like this that wasn't there when he'd fallen asleep sitting up in the living room.

She doesn't wake him, just moves around the room collecting clothes and goes to take a shower. When she comes back, he's moved from curled on his side to flat on his back, one hand palm-up by his head. Very gently, she lifts his hand and kisses the center of it, then puts it back down.

She makes herself a cup of tea and contemplates what she wants to do and what she probably should do. What she _should_ do is go sleep in his bed— invade his space the way he invaded hers, see if she could figure out what he was trying to accomplish with his actions, get as good a night's sleep as she can alone in a strange bed.

What she _wants_ to do is go nudge him over and then curl around him, put a hand on his chest and feel the rise and fall of his breath, tuck her nose into the hair at the nape of his neck and fall asleep breathing him in.

There are bad ideas, and there are terrible ideas. By the time she finishes her tea, she's come to the conclusion that joining Jack in her bed is neither of those things. If he didn't want to wake up in her arms, he shouldn't have slept in her bed in the first place. It's his own damn fault if it's an unpleasant surprise for him in the morning. She's going to wring every ounce of enjoyment she can out of the minutes before she falls asleep.

He's a restless sleeper, she discovers when she comes back into the room to find him on his side again. It's not a surprise. She's not a particularly sound sleeper either. She wonders for a moment whether his presence will fend off her nightmares or induce them— but no, this is Jack, the most reliable source of comfort and reassurance in her life. If he's anything, he'll be a talisman, a touchstone, a grounding force to remind her with no room for error exactly where she is: here, on Paradise, wrapped tightly around her dearest friend, as far from Earth and the things she did there as any living being has ever come.

He stirs when she slips into bed and murmurs something wordless as she wraps an arm around him. "Shh, it's just me," she whispers into the back of his neck.

"Maud," he says clearly, and leans back into her embrace. She waits for him to say anything else, but he goes back to sleep, if he ever woke up at all. 

"Good night, Jack," she whispers, and presses her lips to his neck, and drifts away much faster than she thought she would.


	20. I Shouldn't Have Said That (Dean/Nick)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "drunken confessions".

"I love you," Dean blurts out, and flushes when Nick looks at him sharply.

"What?"

"I love you," Dean repeats, a little less like he's saying it without thinking at all. He looks down into his half-empty cup, takes a deep breath, and looks back up into Nick's eyes. "I've loved you for ages now. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want to make you unhappy. But it's killing me to keep it in. It... it fills me up, when I'm with you. Happiness. You make me happy. I want to make you happy."

"You do make me happy," Nick says, but he's got that skittish look, the one that makes Dean's heart ache to see, and it aches worse knowing that he's the cause, that his affection is the cause. "It's just... I don't know if I do. If I _can_. Love you back. If I'm capable of that."

"You are," Dean says, in a tone that brooks no doubt. "You are capable of it. But it's... it's fine. If you don't. If you don't want to. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." He looks back into his cup and throws the last of it back like a shot, lowers the cup but leaves his head tipped back and his eyes on the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"Dean, no..." The touch of rough fingertips to the back of Dean's hand makes him startle, and he looks down to find Nick looking genuinely distraught. "That's not what I meant. If I can... if it's a thing I can do... of course you would be who I love."

Dean turns his hand over and laces his fingers through Nick's, looking down to take the pressure off of Nick, who's clearly uncomfortable and clearly doing this despite that discomfort. "It doesn't change anything," he says gently. "I don't expect anything else from you. I just wanted you to know."

"Thank you," Nick says, and doesn't say anything else, and doesn't try to take his hand back. They sit in silence for a moment, Nick staring at Dean, Dean staring at their fingers woven together, and after a moment Nick gently squeezes Dean's fingers and Dean squeezes back.


End file.
